Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick tugged his hood lower over his face, glancing once last time at the prepared field before focusing inward. The spell he was about to cast, [Cryptid's Fate], wasn't foolproof, but it would suffice for today's purpose.

Closing his eyes, he murmured the incantation under his breath. A strange weight settled over him like a heavy cloak. He wouldn't become invisible, but people would have a hard time perceiving him, turning casual glances into forgetful blinks and muffling the edges of his presence. As long as no one stared directly at him or he drew attention to himself, he would be little more than a shadow in the periphery, easily ignored.

He took a deep breath, letting the spell's effects settle, and continued his journey toward the town, teetering between grim determination and quiet mourning.

This wasn't a path he had wanted to take. In his old life, he'd clung to a sense of innocence for far longer than most practitioners. He'd believed in second chances, redemption, and finding a way that didn't leave blood on his hands. It had taken him years to understand that some insults had to be paid back in full, and only after his grandfather's death did he start fighting back with appropriate retribution.

By the time of his death, he was just as steeped in the moonlit world as those he had criticized so harshly when he was young. Earth's magic was a corpse-beast that moved only through inertia. It was no place for forgiveness.

But this new life had burned through that innocence quickly. Scar and Short weren't just scavengers making the best of a bad situation—they were predators in a bountiful world who willingly chose to hurt innocents. Back in the Green Ocean, their words and actions made their intentions clear. Leaving them alive would invite retaliation down the line, and Nick wasn't willing to gamble with the lives of the people he cared about.

Still, he didn't relish in what he was about to do. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus on the rhythm of his steps. This wasn't vengeance. It wasn't cruelty. It was a necessity.

Soon enough, he got to the adventurer's guild. Even from a distance, Nick could hear the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. It was unusually lively, especially on a weekday. As far as he knew, most adventurers spent their time recovering from expeditions or honing their skills, not loitering in the guild hall. Not outside the early morning when they checked on the day's quests and mealtimes.

Nick slipped into the shadows of the alley behind the building, holding firm to [Cryptid's Fate] as he surveyed the scene. A steady stream of muscled men and women moved in and out of the building, allowing him to hear tantalizing snippets of conversations.

Curiosity tugged at him, but he kept his distance. Circling around the guild, he found a less crowded path to its side entrance and slipped in, following a group. The air inside was warm and filled with the smell of ale and sweat, and the murmur of voices blended into a chaotic roar. Staying near the walls, Nick moved quietly, letting the spell shield him from casual attention.

It didn't take long to understand the source of the excitement.

"The Roaring Fang's recruiting?" one man exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah, he's come back and announced he's going deep into the Green Ocean this time," another replied. "Word is, he's trying to find out if a legendary treasure has reappeared."

"Treasure or no, you know he always comes back with something worth the risk."

Nick's brow furrowed as he listened. The Roaring Fang was Arthur's nickname—Floria's most powerful adventurer. Nick had spied on him once, out of sheer happenstance, and quickly realized the man knew much more than the general public.

After that, he had subtly gathered some information about the only man to reach Prestige in town and learned that his expeditions were legendary for their daring and rewards. More importantly, he was known for fiercely protecting his teammates, ensuring that even the weakest members returned alive unless they actively sabotaged themselves.

It wasn't hard to see why the guild was abuzz with activity. For most of these adventurers, joining Arthur's expedition was a golden ticket—both to riches and a kind of safety rarely afforded in their line of work. Even if they didn't turn their lives around with wealth, they'd earn some valuable experience under the tutelage of a real legend.

Nick, however, felt little more than passing interest. The Green Ocean's depths held many mysteries, and while he suspected the rumor of a treasure was to hide the potential dungeon Arthur wanted to check upon, it wasn't immediately relevant to his goals. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

Fortunately, his quarry arrived soon enough.

Scar and Short sat at a table near the far corner of the guild hall. They were deep in conversation, looking tense. Short gestured animatedly, his words too low for Nick to catch, while Scar's face remained a mask of grim resolve.

Nick's gaze lingered on them, his mind ticking through the plan. Cryptid's Fate would allow him to observe them unnoticed, and he needed more information. He had to know if they were planning to leave town or, worse, if they had already set something into motion against him or his friends.

He edged closer, keeping close to the wall to avoid being noticed. As he neared their table, snippets of their conversation began to filter through the noise.

"…don't like it," Short muttered. "Too many eyes. We're better off dealing with this outside the walls."

Scar snorted. "You mean run again? You know why we had to flee here as well as I do."

"No, but we have to be smart about this," Short snapped. "The kid's dangerous. We underestimated him once. I'm not making that mistake again."

Nick's heart pounded, but he forced himself to remain calm. Their words confirmed his fears—they weren't going to let their humiliation go unanswered.

A man drunkenly jostled him, pausing to look once he realized he had pushed a kid. Before he could gather his wits, Nick walked away, deciding to wait for the two men outside.

It took a whole hour for them to emerge, and even then, he had to use all his tracking skills to avoid losing them in the throngs of adventurers. Fortunately, they seemed to be walking in the general direction he needed them to, allowing him to remain hidden for a while longer.

Keeping a careful distance behind his targets, Nick forced his breath to remain even. Though [Cryptid's Fate] worked well in the chaotic bustle of the adventurer's guild, he knew it might not hold against the trained senses of two experienced adventurers in the quiet fields outside the town.

Casting [Hoplite's Help] was impossible within the guild, as he'd be overwhelmed by the noise, but there was no reason not to use it now. A whispered chant sharpened his hearing, amplifying the faint murmurs of conversation ahead. Their voices immediately became clear.

"They're wasting their time," Scar scoffed. "The Roaring Fang won't take half these idiots. You think he's going to risk dragging greenhorns into the depths of the Green Ocean when he can keep all the loot for himself?"

Short chuckled along. "Exactly. That's why he'll pick us. We've got the experience, the grit. Hell, he can ask anyone, and they'll tell him of our fearlessness."

Nick's lips twitched in contempt. Fearlessness? He could still picture the scarred man's face twisting with rage and fear as he rolled away from Elia's flames. He remembered the desperation in their retreat. But he kept silent, letting their bravado carry on unchecked.

"He won't even have to think twice," Short puffed out his chest. "We're practically a shoo-in."

"Damn right," Scar replied. "Not like those wannabe adventurers. Half of them wouldn't last a day out there, too worried about following the rules and climbing the ranks through achievements. As if anyone up the chain got there by being a goody-two-shoes."

Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted Arthur, with his reputation for high standards, would seriously consider these two. But he had to admit they were resourceful—likely how they'd survived the Green Ocean this long. Their recovery after the beating they had taken in the forest was proof of that. The sight of them moving without a limp or hesitation still grated on him. The fact that people as vile as them had access to resources they didn't deserve left a bad taste in his mouth.

The pair finally left the main paths, heading away from the town. Nick followed silently, straining for any hint that they'd noticed him. They wound through back alleys, slipping into the empty fields beyond the last houses.

Nick followed them carefully, watching as they moved with a purpose that suggested familiarity with the terrain. Finally, they stopped in a small clearing surrounded by waist-high grass not too far from where he'd set up. It seemed he wasn't the only one to realize it wouldn't see any traffic for a while.

Scar turned suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

"All right, come on out," he called out loud. "We know you're there."

Nick froze, momentarily caught off guard. He had underestimated their senses—or perhaps their paranoia. It wasn't impossible that they had some minor skill or artifact to help them detect presences nearby, especially given their line of work. But now that the game was up, there was no point in hiding.

Releasing [Cryptid's Fate], Nick stepped out from the shadows, his face impassive. The sunlight glinted off his eyes, making them gleam unnaturally as he stopped a few paces away from the two men.

"Well, well," Short sneered, his hand dropping to the hilt of his dagger. "If it isn't the brat from the forest."

Scar's lips curled into a mocking grin. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that. What are you doing out here, looking to settle a score?"

Nick's answer was cold. "Something like that."

For a moment, there was silence. Scar narrowed his eyes, studying Nick as if trying to puzzle out his intentions. Short, less patient, let out a bark of laughter.

"Listen to him! He thinks he's got a shot against us. Alone, no less. You must've taken one too many hits to the head, kid."

Nick didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a smooth, thumb-sized mana core. The crystal caught the sunlight, glowing faintly with a soft inner light. He held it up, letting them see it.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked, his tone still flat. "I'm sure you could fence it off without too many questions. I have more than just this, you know."

Scar's gaze flickered to the core, briefly betraying his greed before hardening again. "You really should think about what you are doing, kid."

Nick ignored him, taking a step closer. "I know exactly what you are. Parasites. Leeching off the weak because it's easier than facing real threats. But you made a mistake in the forest. You picked the wrong prey."

Short sneered, pulling his dagger free. "Big words for a kid who's about to get gutted."

But Scar raised a hand, stopping him. His gaze was locked on Nick, wary now. "What's your game, kid? You wouldn't come out here alone unless you had something up your sleeve."

Nick allowed himself a small, humorless smile. "You're right. I do."

And with that, he turned around and started running. Just because he was fairly confident he could take them on now that he didn't need to protect the girls didn't mean he should let his preparations go to waste.

"What the—"

"Go after him!"